


liquor liquor lips

by callingthequits



Series: maybe sometime, in a long time [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callingthequits/pseuds/callingthequits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's bourbon and girls and Tony not knowing where he left his heart, if he ever actually had one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	liquor liquor lips

It's bourbon burning down his throat and girls falling over themselves trying to give him what they think he wants. Oh, but he doesn't really know what he wants either, does he? He smiles, not really a smile of any sort at all, and it probably looks more broken than glass. But the girls—well, there's a reason why he picks the dumb, clueless ones, right? They don't notice, giggle along, play the game well, and one of them splays her hands all over his chest. 

Play the game well.

Ha.

Tony doesn't even know the rules.

"Oh, Anthony," a blonde to his right purrs. All boobs, no brain, like some doll. He licks his lips. "Darling, would you ever say...would you think you would meet someone here? Would you look at her, would you ever love her? Bubblegum, would you ever love her as hard as you would to us?"

And he leers at her, a smirk on his face, eyes half-lidden, and words half-meant. "I'd probably pop her bubblegum heart." Ah, isn't that all he does? Pop, pop, pop; his dreams—gone! His life—whoops! His heart—well, you can't miss what you never had.

A redhead swoons, her figure like a pin-up, and moans, "Speaking of hearts, where's yours, Mr. Stark?"

He immediately puts his attention on her, and her blue eyes sparkle deviously at him. He grins—shark's grin, never anything less, but never anything more, either—and if it looks brittled and forced, then who's there to complain? He places a mocking kiss on her forehead, and whispers, _"Welcome to the life of electra heart."_

He laughs, and he doesn't feel it anywhere. Absentmindedly, he thinks that he could probably get better if he wanted to. But a brunette steals a kiss from him, tasting of alcohol and a hint of cinnamon, and he forgets about all of that.

 _I can get better,_ he thinks. And later, when a blonde steals him with a kiss, hits him with her love—

_Sometime later._


End file.
